


A Truth Once Spoken

by FancyFree2813



Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Other, brief mention of incest/molestation, major character illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26865121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyFree2813/pseuds/FancyFree2813
Summary: Fraser is in trouble and Ray, Meg and a mysterious doctor must team up to save his life.
Kudos: 3





	A Truth Once Spoken

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the first stories I wrote. It is not part of the Layers Series HOWEVER it does introduce a character that is an integral part of a Layers story - One is a Lonely Number. Please read this one first. I will also post a warning at the beginning of that story. This story takes place just prior to and during the opening scenes from Mountie on the Bounty and contains a major spoiler for that episode. It then veers off in a totally imaginary direction. There is dialogue taken directly from that episode that will be indicated as such in the story.

As they were leaving the United Center on their way home from a hockey game, Ray Kowalski was arguing, and Benton Fraser discussing, the relative merits of the Blackhawks over the Maple Leafs. Cruising down Madison, Ray saw the smoke at just about the same time Fraser smelled it. 

It was coming from the bottom floor of the Hatton Medical Building, toward the back, as best they could determine. As he brought his black GTO to a screeching halt across the street, Ray called in the alarm. Fraser jumped out of the car and ran toward the building.

"Fraser, it's a fire! Wait for the fire department!" Ray yelled, but Fraser didn't, or more likely, wouldn't hear him. "Why do I bother, he never listens ta me anyway," he muttered. Dief whined at him from the backseat. At least Dief wasn't deaf . . . Ray hit his head with the heel of his hand. 

"Damn! Fraser! Wait!" He yelled again, as he ran from the car.

Fraser had already found the source of the fire. A woman wearing a white lab coat was frantically trying to break open a door labeled 'Dr Robert Corbett Veterinary Research'. 

"Excuse me," he yelled as he pushed her out of the way and kicked in the door.

The large room was filled with smoke but the flames seemed to be contained to a small area at the far corner of the lab. "Is there anyone in here? What kind of chemicals are in here?" he shouted at her over the screams of frightened animals.

"No people, no chemicals. Just get the animals!" she shouted back.

The woman and Fraser quickly located four cages containing terrified animals, grabbed them, and ran out the door.

The fire trucks were arriving as Fraser and the woman ran, coughing out of the building.

"You two okay?" They both nodded as they coughed the smoke out of their lungs. "Anyone left in there?" The fire chief yelled at them as he began to deploy his men. 

The woman standing with Fraser coughed her reply. "No. It's Sunday, all the offices are closed." 

The fire chief directed them out of the way of equipment and personnel as he ran on to supervise his men.

"It's fortunate that you were here. The fire seems to be contained to just that laboratory."

The woman turned to Fraser. "I was doing paperwork in my office upstairs when I smelled the smoke. I called 911 immediately." Her nametag identified her as Jeanette McDonald, MD.

"Ouch!" Fraser almost dropped the cage as a frightened monkey bit his hand.

"Stupid little bugger." Ray joined Fraser and the doctor.

"Ray, the poor animal is scared to death." Then under his breath, "You bite for much less provocation than that."

"I heard that!"

Dr. McDonald sat the two cages she was carrying down, took the other cages from Fraser and sat them down also. She cursory examination revealed that none of the animals appeared to be injured, just scared. 

"I'm a medical doctor, let me see that bite," she said as she reached for his hand.

Ray laughed to himself as Fraser lost his ability to complete a sentence. "It's . . . I'm sure um . . . nothing . . . that is . . . the animal was just frightened."

"Hey, thing's not rabid or nothin', is it?" Ray was suddenly concerned.

"Dr Corbett sometimes boards pets. No, it's not rabid. The bite doesn't look too bad. If you'll come up to my office I'll put some antiseptic on it, Mr.-- "

"Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I first came to Chicago--"

"Fraser!"

"Understood. Thank you kindly, but I have an ointment of lichen and elkhorn with me," Fraser smiled at her as he glanced at her nametag, "Dr. McDonald." 

"Detective Ray Vecchio, Chicago PD." Ray offered the woman his hand as he introduced himself. 

Dr. McDonald glared at Ray as she recoiled from his extended hand as if he were holding a live scorpion.

She smiled slightly at Fraser, however. "Glad to see a man who's prepared for medical emergencies."

Ray frowned at her, 'Great,' he thought, 'just great. Here we go again. When Fraser's around I might as well be chopped liver.'

"Well, thank you for your help Constable. It looks like the fire is out. I'll take these guys back inside and keep them in my office until Dr Corbett gets back from his long weekend." Dr. McDonald spoke to Fraser and completely ignored Ray's existence. 

Ray was kind of surprised that she didn't hang all over Fraser like most women usually did.vAs they walked back to the car, Ray turned to watch the doctor reenter the building. "What's with her? Those glasses look like the bottom a coke bottles. And if her hair was pulled back any tighter it'd prob'bly pull her scalp right off!"

"Ray! What an unkind thing to say. And I do believe that coke bottles are now made of plastic." Fraser rubbed the bite on his hand. He had to admit that little guy certainly had sharp teeth.

"Yeah, right." The sarcasm was hard to miss. "It's just gettin' old, havin' all these women look right through me, ta see you."

"I'm sorry Ray, I don't mean to do it. It's just that the women in Chicago are--"

"Fraser, shut up! Stop apologizin' for stuff ya can't control!" Ray was extremely irritated and he didn't want Fraser trying to talk him out of it. "Just shut up." Fraser had really been getting on his nerves lately.

Silence from Fraser made Ray immediately regret his words. "Sorry, Frase."

Fraser did not reply.

__________________________________________________________

The day after the fire was very trying for both partners. They were pursuing three men from the FBI's Ten Most Wanted List and had gotten themselves cornered. Seeing their only escape as the lake below them, Fraser insisted that they make like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and jump, from several stories up into Lake Michigan. And, as if that weren't bad enough, Ray was becoming increasingly resentful of Fraser's constantly correcting him. Actually, both men had become quite annoyed with each other.

When the uniformed cops arrived, even before they climbed out of the lake, Ray finally had had enough... (dialog taken directly from the Due South transcripts)

'If we'd just waited two seconds they woulda been here.'  
'But what if they hadn't come?'  
'Yer a maniac Fraser!'  
'And Ray, you're overreacting! What do you propose we do Ray? We are officers of the law.'  
'I know that! We're cops! I don't have a cape, you don't have a cape...'  
'No, but I do wear a uniform, you carry a badge and my Sam Browne is sort of a-'  
'Then why are ya arguin' with me?'  
'I'm not arguing with you,'  
'Yes you are! That's that thing again, yer correcting. You're nigglin'. Yer doin' that thing with the T's and the I's. I say A you say B, I say night you say day.'  
'I think you should be reasonable. I don't do it all the time--'  
'Look ya just did it again! Ya just did it again! It's like some kinda disease!'  
'It's not a disease!'  
'Look, I don't wanna hear it, I don't wanna hear it! I don't understand. I don't wanna hear it!'  
'Ray, would you just listen to me?'  
'Look, I swear ta, I swear ta God, I will punch you right in the face! Fair warning . . . '  
'Well what does that...you're going to punch me . . .'  
'I . . . I . . . I'm gonna punch you in the face!'  
'Just think calmly--'  
'Why don't ya listen to me!' (end of Due South dialog)

And then Ray did it. Punched his partner, his friend, full in the face. He didn't regret it, at least not immediately. But as he watched Fraser's face, he saw acceptance in the deep blue eyes staring back at him, like the punch was the exclamation point, the end of the sentence, like he knew their friendship had come to an end. Suddenly Ray knew what a mistake he'd made. 

'God,' he thought, 'hit me back! Flatten me right here! I got it comin'.' But all Fraser did was turn - and walk away.

'Go after him, ya stupid idiot. Stop him before both of us live ta regret it. What're ya waitin' for? Shit!' Ray's thoughts could not make his body move, or his mouth work to call Fraser back. He knew he had gone over the line, let his emotions get the better of him and now could never take back what he'd done to his friend. After several long moments, he too turned and walked away - the other way, out of Fraser's life. "I suck!"

'Well so much for that partnership.' Fraser thought. He was angrier than he could ever remember being. As he walked away from the person he had considered his friend, he wished he had hit him back. Knocked some sense into his feeble little brain. Shown him who the stronger man really was.

Fraser walked back to the Consulate. He felt the long walk would do him good. Give him time to get his anger under control. But, by the time he arrived at his office his jaw hurt, his hand hurt, he was still soaking wet and so cold he was shivering. All of this had turned his anger into a very foul mood.

Constable Turnbull greeted him with an ever-present smile as he entered the building. "Good evening, Constable . . . Fraser, you're soaking wet!"

"That's what happens when you go swimming in Lake Michigan in your uniform, Turnbull." 

Turnbull was shocked at the sarcasm and contempt in Constable Fraser's voice. Constable Fraser was rarely sarcastic and never contemptuous of anyone!

"Constable Fraser!" Inspector Thatcher stared at him over the top of her reading glasses, before she realized she was still wearing them and snatched them from her nose. "You're wet! You're dripping all over the hardwood floor! Change your uniform and come to my office, immediately."

Fraser was really not in the mood for a confrontation. He was actually beginning to feel unwell. It was a strange sensation as he was rarely, if ever, ill. He changed to a dry uniform and was at the Inspector's door in five minutes.

"Inspector?"

"Come in, Constable." Her eyes did not meet his as she studied a piece of paper lying on her desk. 

"Fraser, did you request a transfer, without my knowledge?" 

Fraser could tell she was angry with him, but he had no idea why. He cocked his head at her. "Yes, Sir. I requested a transfer prior to your assignment to Chicago." 

"Well, it needs my approval, and I am denying it. Dismissed."

Fraser felt something very deep inside of him snap. "Excuse me?" For the second time today he was becoming uncontrollably angry. "Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? You are needed here. And I said 'dismissed'!"

"Wait a minute!" From the hallway Turnbull could hear Fraser's voice, raised loud and angry. "What the hell do you need me here for?"

"Constable Fraser! I will not be spoken to in that tone! You know perfectly well that you are . . . necess . . . that you are indes . . . that you are needed here. Your request for transfer is denied. And I said dismissed! Do not make me repeat myself, again." She could not even believe she was having this conversation! He was never insubordinate.

"No! I will not be dismissed!" He was shouting now, and becoming increasingly agitated. Turnbull could hear every word he was saying. He had heard the Inspector shouting many times, often at him, but he had never, ever heard Constable Fraser so much as raise his voice!

"Fraser!" Thatcher's voice had now reached a level comparable to Fraser's.

"You cannot deny my request without discussing it with me! I have wanted to go home ever since I got to this God forsaken city! I want to do real police work and I need to be in Canada to do it!"

"Fraser, you do 'real' police work in Chicago everyday, much to my dismay." Thatcher had never seen Fraser like this. She had seen him angry, but she had never seen him loose control. It alarmed her.

She tried to calm herself. "Look Constable, take some time to consider this. We can discuss it again tomorrow." She tried to smile at him.

"There's nothing to discuss, you have obviously made up your mind. And so have I. I want the transfer!"

Trying to maintain her composure, Thatcher pointed to the door. "I will excuse your attitude, but just this once. Get out of my office, Constable. And do not come back until you can speak to me in a civil tone!" If Fraser were any other officer, she would have . . . but Fraser was not any other officer.

"I doubt there's any reason for me to come back. You've already made up your mind and there's nothing I can say or do to change it!" Fraser virtually spat the words at her.

Thatcher lost it completely. She screamed at him, "GET OUT!"

Blinded by anger, Fraser almost upended Turnbull as he shot out of Thatcher's office. Turnbull was about to excuse himself, until he saw the black rage on Fraser's face. Neither man said a word.

__________

Constable Turnbull was visibly shaken. He stared after the man he considered his mentor. Something dreadful had happened between the Inspector and Constable Fraser and it upset him terribly. Maybe there was something he could do to help. Ah, he had it! He'd cook a nice breakfast for both of them tomorrow morning and they could talk, try to work out whatever was wrong. Yes, that was a good idea; food always helped mollify tense situations. His frown was replaced by a slight smile. He felt better already. 

In her office, Thatcher sat with her head in her hands. What had happened here? She didn't understand. She had tried many times in the past to get under his skin, to get a rise out of him, but she'd never succeeded. Now she'd made him furious without even trying. The transfer was obviously more important than she had thought. Maybe she shouldn't have . . . No! She was his superior officer and it was for her to decide. She just hadn't known that the man had such depth of emotion. 

She decided to go home, it was already past time anyway. When she told Turnbull she had a severe headache she wasn't lying.

Fraser sat in his office trying to calm himself. What was wrong with him? He couldn't remember ever losing control of himself like that. But he wanted so desperately to go home. And she had snatched the chance away from him, like it was just an insignificant thing, totally unimportant. 

He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window. There was a large bruise forming on his jaw. Ray packed one hell of a punch. Fraser smiled slightly. He ached all over. His body and his soul. He'd lost two good friends today. Maybe a good night's sleep would help ease the pain, and tomorrow he'd work at righting all that had gone wrong today.

__________________________________________________________

Ray tossed and turned all night, but sleep eluded him. At about 4:00 a.m. he realized that he would probably never sleep again, at least not until he had made things right with Fraser. He slammed his fist into his pillow. "Damn Canadian, this's all his fault. If he just wasn't so right all the time!" Ray had to smile at that. Wasn't that the reason they were so good together, Fraser's knowledge and his ability to act on it?

He wasn't going to stop and think about it, if he did he knew he'd just talk himself out of it. So, at a little after 4:00 a.m. he got up, took a shower, got dressed and left for the Consulate. So what if he arrived at 5:00? He'd just park outside and wait until a reasonable hour. He knew Fraser's shift started at 7:00, so he figured he'd wait until about 6:30, then go up and pound on the door until Fraser let him in.

He parked the GTO in the usual place next to the fire hydrant about 5:00. He stared at the building practicing what he was going to say. 

By 5:15 he was fast asleep.

__________________________________________________________

Fraser hadn't slept much either. He was alternating between feeling badly for how he had treated his friends and angry with them for the way they had treated him. At about the same time Ray made his decision to drive to the Consulate to clear things up with him, Fraser was also making a decision.

He had decided to go home. Well not exactly home, not yet. He would to go to Buck Frobisher's cabin near Yellowknife. He still wasn't feeling very well and it would be a lot easier to get there than all the way home. He'd go the rest of the way in a few days. Just thinking of home made him feel much better.

Sometime during the night he had also decided to resign his commission.

__________________________________________________________

Fraser glanced around the room. It looked like he'd gotten everything packed. He loaded up his pack and gear and closed his office door behind him. The only things left in the closet were his uniforms. One crisp and fresh, the other looking bedraggled from having been wet. But he had taken everything he wanted and everything he would need.

He laid his letter of resignation, rank pips and RCMP ID on Thatcher's desk, where she'd be sure to see them first thing. He thought she would probably be upset, but he'd already stopped caring about that.

Dief sat on the carpet in the middle of Thatcher's office and whined at him. "I'm sorry Dief, you can't come with me. I'll have Turnbull take you to the airport in a few days. Don't look at me like that, I just can't take you now." Dief whined at his human friend again. "No, you're wrong, I am doing the right thing!"

He ran into Turnbull coming in just as he was about to leave. "G . . . good . . . morning . . . Constable Fraser." Turnbull was nervous, as he hadn't spoken to Fraser since his altercation with Thatcher yesterday evening. "I . . . I . . .thought I'd get in a little early and . . . and make you and the Inspector a nice breakf-- Constable, are you going somewhere?" Turnbull noticed the pack and couldn't miss the ugly bruise on Fraser's jaw. He also noticed the flush on Fraser's cheeks. "Are you feeling all right, Sir?"

Fraser sighed deeply, he had hoped to avoid speaking with anyone before he left. "Turnbull, I'm tired. So I've decided to go home for awhile. I've left a letter on Inspector Thatcher's desk. She will, I assume, explain everything to you. Look after Diefenbaker for me, will you?" He offered his hand and a very confused Turnbull shook it. "It's been very . . . interesting . . . working with you." Fraser turned and walked briskly out the door. 

"Oh, dear," Turnbull spoke to Diefenbaker, "I hope it was nothing I said." Dief whined as Turnbull scratched him behind the ears.

Fraser saw the GTO as soon as he was outside. It was parked right behind the taxi waiting to pick him up. Fraser hung his head. The last person he wanted to see was Ray.

As he walked toward the taxi he realized that Ray was asleep. "Goodbye, Ray," he muttered under his breath, "it's been interesting working with you, too." He got into the taxi and left.

__________________________________________________________

A car's horn honking awoke Ray with a jolt. He looked at the clock on the dash and groaned, 8:15. "Damn!" Thatcher would already be in there. He really didn't want to have a run in with her, but he had to straighten things out with Fraser.

As he walked into the Consulate Ray was greeted with the sight of a very distraught Constable Turnbull. His actions gave new meaning to the word. 

Ray was immediately concerned. "Turnbull ya look like ya just lost yer best friend."

"Constable Fraser is . . . is gone." He shoved the back of his hand into his mouth to stifle a sob.

"Gone? Where?" Ray frowned at him.

"Detective, do you know anything about this?" Thatcher came up behind him, holding a piece of paper and a RCMP ID. Her voice was barely a whisper, but the tone said it all. She was very upset.

Ray frowned at her and took the paper. As he read the words his expression mirrored both Thatcher and Turnbull. "What the hell?"

All it said was 'Effective this date I hereby resign from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Please ask Turnbull to look after Diefenbaker,' and was signed 'Benton Fraser'.

Thatcher handed Ray Fraser's ID. "Detective . . . Ray . . . what's going on? I don't understand. I know he wanted a transfer, but I thought we could talk about it. I certainly never thought he would resign." She leaned against a table to steady herself, as Ray continued to frown at her.

"Can we go ta your office and sit down?" Ray's head was spinning. He thought Turnbull was crying. What the hell was going on here?

"Okay, everybudy calm down." 'Including me,' Ray thought. "Does anybudy know when he left, or where he went?" His detective instincts shifted into high gear. He didn't have to ask why Fraser left because he already knew. He felt a pang of regret as he rubbed his bruised knuckles.

Turnbull was blubbering "I saw him when he left. He said he was going home. He shook my hand. Ohhh . . . "

"Turnbull calm down! When did he leave?" Thatcher had also shifted to detective mode.

"Um, uh, I . . . I came in early to make a nice breakfast for the two of you. I hoped it would help you settle your disagreement from yesterday evening." Thatcher sighed as she sat down. 

"You had an argument with him last night?" Ray was thinking more about the argument he and Fraser had had that afternoon. He should have known that there was something wrong.

"Well, yes, about a transfer. Constable Fraser was very upset. He came back from some escapade with you soaking wet and in a vile mood. Things just seemed to deteriorate from there. He shouted at me." 

"He shouted at you, too?" Yes, something was really wrong here. Ray's concern for his friend was growing.

"Turnbull, when did he leave?!"

Turnbull sniffled. "Probably about 5:30." 

Ray ran his hand through his hair, while he was asleep. "Okay, we gotta decide what ta do. Did he take his gear with him? Was he planning on comin' back in a few days, or what?"

"Um, ah, he had . . . "

Thatcher was becoming increasingly irritated with Turnbull. "Spit it out Constable. That's an order!"

"Yes, Sir. He had his pack and gear. It looked like everything."

Ray made a dash for Fraser's office with Thatcher and Turnbull close behind. All that was left of Benton Fraser were two forlorn looking RCMP red serge dress uniforms and a few empty hangers.

__________________________________________________________

"We gotta go after him!"

"No, Detective, we don't 'gotta' go after him. Constable Fraser is an adult and capable of making his own decisions. If he wants to run away and sulk, then let him do so. I have every confidence that he will see the error of his ways and return within a few days."

"Yer real cold, ya know that? Real cold." Ray wanted, no, needed to talk to Fraser, but Thatcher was at least partially right. If Fraser wanted to be by himself for awhile then he would respect that and leave him alone, but not for long.

"Two days. I'll give him two days. If he hasn't gotten a hold of one of us in two days, we go lookin' for him. Deal?"

Thatcher thought that was fair. If the truth were known she wanted to run after him right now, but knew that would not be appropriate. "Deal."

After Ray left the Consulate and Turnbull set upon the day's business, Thatcher closed her office door. She walked to her desk, sat down and buried her head in her hands. What could she have done to stop him? She should have known how important his transfer was to him by the way he reacted. She shouldn't have just denied it out of hand. She needed to talk to him, needed to work things out. She didn't want their, what was it anyway, relationship, to end this way.

She sat straight up in her chair. 'Stop it,' she thought, 'it's not your fault that he overreacted. He'll be back.' She shook away thoughts of him and began to sort through some files. "God, I hope he comes back."

__________________________________________________________

By the time Fraser arrived at the RCMP Station in Yellowknife he could no longer deny that something was very wrong with him. The bruise on his jaw had turned an angry shade of red tinged with numerous other ugly colors. He ached all over and was having trouble thinking straight. His hand throbbed terribly.

"No," the Officer in Charge told him, "Sargent Frobisher is not in. He's in Ottawa for a few days of computer training." 'Complaining all the way,' he thought. "Actually, you're lucky you found me here. I was just closing this place up for a few days. Going to Ottawa for that training myself. Wonderful things, computers." 

The Sargent thought he didn't look very well and asked him if he was feeling all right. After receiving Fraser's assurance that he was just a little tired from the long flights from Chicago, the Sargent was more than willing to lend a fellow officer a snowmobile to travel the rest of the way to Frobisher's cabin.

Fraser didn't bother to tell the Sargent that he was no longer a fellow officer.

__________________________________________________________

For the second night in a row Ray couldn't sleep. He was sure that he had driven his best friend away. He was sorry but Fraser hadn't given him the chance to say so. "Damn it Fraser, what'd ya have ta go 'n leave for?" Ray punched his pillow for the umpteenth time, but still couldn't get comfortable. He wondered what frozen wasteland Fraser was sleeping in tonight.

__________________________________________________________

He wasn't sure he was going to make it. The cabin must only be another mile or so, but his head ached so much that it hurt to keep his eyes open. And when they were open the whole world was spinning. He'd often thought he could navigate this country with his eyes closed. He might just have to find out.

He was having trouble remembering how to operate the snowmobile. "Hold on, don't pass out here," he told himself. "If you do, you're dead." 

He thought he heard his father calling to him. "It's just a little farther, son. That's it. You can do it. Don't give up, son. Get to Buck's cabin, you'll be all right."

Fraser made it to the cabin, stumbled across the porch and through the door. Then he collapsed. 

__________________________________________________________

Ray had finally fallen asleep when his cell phone rang at 6:00 a.m. He stumbled across the room in search of the damn phone. "This better be good. Vecchio!" He fell back on the bed.

"Detective Vecchio, this is Dr. Jeanette McDonald. We met at the Hatton Medical Building? I'm trying to locate Constable Fraser."

"Honey, if you're lookin' fer a date, Fraser's left the country."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Sorry. Still half asleep . . . Fraser's taken a little vacation."

"It is vital that I speak with him, as soon as possible. Do you know how to reach him?" 

The urgency in her voice brought Ray wide-awake. "What's the problem?"

"I hesitate--"

Ray shouted into the phone, "tell me the problem!"

She hesitated briefly, "The monkey that bit Constable Fraser died last night." Ray was on his feet as she continued. "Dr. Corbett just finished running tests and has determined that it was infected with Dengue fever. The disease can be transmitted to humans."

"Shit!"

"There's really no cause for alarm. I have a vaccine that, if administered promptly, will completely eradicate the disease--"

"I wasn't kiddin' when I said Fraser was out of the country."

"Where?" Now there was alarm in her voice.

"I don't know."

"Damn."

"Yeah, right." Ray's thoughts exactly. "Look, do ya know where the Canadian Consulate is?"

"Yes."

"Good, meet me there in 30 minutes." Ray hung up on the doctor and pressed his speed dial #1, for the Consulate.

"Turnbull, just shut up and listen. Call Thatcher and tell her ta meet me there in 30 minutes. Just do it, Turnbull. Blame me if ya want. Tell her it's a matter of life 'n death, Fraser's life 'n death."

__________________________________________________________

Ray arrived just a few minutes after Thatcher. "Detective Vecchio, this better be good. What is going on?" She gifted him with her patented 'Ice Queen' frown. That look always caused Ray to shudder.

He was about to explain as Dr. McDonald rushed in. "Inspector Margaret Thatcher, this is Dr. Jeanette McDonald." Thatcher's frown deepened.

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

Ray took a second look at the patented frown and decided to let the doctor do the explaining. 

"Last Sunday, Constable Fraser was bitten by a monkey that he had rescued from a burning veterinary research lab--"

Thatcher glanced reproachfully at Ray. "What was he doing . . . oh, never mind. It's probably just as well I don't know."

"The monkey was being boarded for the weekend in the lab. It had apparently been purchased from a less than reputable source. Bottom line, it was infected with Dengue fever, which in all probability was transmitted to Constable Fraser."

"Oh, my God!"

"The disease it highly treatable, but the vaccine must be administered within 72 hours of infection."

Ray thought he was going to lose it, very soon. "There anyway ta know if he really got it?"

"Early symptoms include fever, body aches, severe irritability . . . " No one in the room uttered a word. Ray dropped into the nearest chair. Last night he had thought he could not possibly feel worse. Obviously he was wrong. Not only had he punched his best friend, but he had also punched him while he was sick. There were rules against that sort of thing.

"Judging by your reactions, I will assume that Constable Fraser has been infected. I don't like to be an alarmist, but later symptoms include dizziness, delirium, coma and eventually . . . death. We do still have some time to find him, however, I must administer the vaccine soon."

Thatcher was scared for Fraser. She should have known something was wrong with him. Hadn't she thought that his anger was out of character? She knew she had to get a hold of herself. They had to act fast if they wanted to save him.

"Turnbull, what exactly did Fraser say before he left? Slowly, don't sputter Turnbull, just tell us. Did he say where he was going?"

"His exact words were 'I'm tired. I'm going home for awhile.'"

"Where is his home?" The doctor went to the large map of Canada hanging on the wall.

"Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest Territories. But I don't know exactly where." Thatcher went to her personnel files to locate a home address for Fraser. "Damn! No address listed."

"This room is full of cops, you must know how to find out. We have very little time." Her sarcastic tone caused Ray to frown at her.

Ray and Thatcher thought for several moments. "Buck Frobisher will know." Thatcher was on the phone immediately but all she got at the Yellowknife Station was the answering machine. The message said for emergencies to call Ft Providence. All Yellowknife staff were in Ottawa. 

"Damn." She hung up and called RCMP Headquarters in Ottawa. "Sargent, this is Inspector Thatcher in Chicago. We have a medical emergency here. I need to speak to Sargent Buck Frobisher. Do you know how I can reach him?"

'Do I ever', the Sargent thought. 'That old guy's been disrupting the training class for the last week.' "Hold on Inspector, I can get him for you."

About 5 minutes later Buck Frobisher was on the line. "Meg Thatcher! How are you?"

"We don't have time for small talk, Sargent. Can you tell me how to find Constable Fraser's cabin in Tuktoyaktuk? We have to find him immediately."

"I can tell you how to find it Meg, but I know he's not there."

"What? Sargent, do you know where he is?" Everyone was standing around Thatcher, desperately wishing they could hear the other end of the conversation. "At your place? Yellowknife . . . "

Thatcher grabbed a pen and paper and wrote down directions. "Thank you, Sargent." Thatcher hung up the phone and sighed. "Well, at least we know where he went, now all we have to do is get there."

McDonald was again looking at the map on the wall. "It a very long way from here to Yellowknife. We'll never make it on a commercial airline." She was speaking more to herself than any else in the room.

"Doctor?" 

"It's Jeanette, and I was really just thinking out loud." She looked at her watch, "Look, I figure we've only got about 10 hours. May I?" She pointed at the phone and placed a call.

"Jay, this is Jeanette. Look, I need a really big favor. I know this is not your usual trip, but I need to borrow you or one of your pilots and the Lear jet. Yes, it is. I need to go to Yellowknife, Northwest Territories." She sighed heavily. "No, I'm not trying to smuggle anything out of the country. Jay, this is serious. I got a sick Mountie up there, and he probably doesn't know just how sick he is. He's going to die if we don't get there within the next 10 hours. One cop, a Mountie and me." Jeanette sighed again. "Yes, Jay, sounds like the name of a movie. Can you call Wally and . . . wait a minute." She ran to the window and then turned and ran out the front door.

Three very confused cops ran after her. "Inspector, is there any place around here where a chopper can land?"

"I've seen helicopters land on the roof of the Mid America Bank Building. That one over there." 

"Have Wally pick us up on the roof of the Mid America Bank Building in 30 minutes . . . " She looked at the others for confirmation. They nodded. "Thanks Jay, we owe you big time." As she hung up the phone, "Jay and his friends fly for Life Flight, but this scenario is highly unusual for them."

Ray hadn't really paid much attention to anything that was happening after the doctor said that Fraser could die. For the last year he had grown to consider Fraser his best friend and refused to let himself considered what his life might be like without the Mountie. He guessed he just figured he'd always be there. Sure, he irritated the hell out of him at times, to the point of his punching Fraser two days ago. God, was that only two days ago? Seemed like a lifetime. "Damn it Fraser, why'd ya have ta leave. If ya'd only waited a little while, I coulda talked ta ya, coulda stopped ya," he muttered to himself. If only he hadn't fallen asleep . . . 

__________________________________________________________

Within an hour Meg, Ray, Jeanette and Diefenbaker were on their way to Yellowknife. Their pilot was not at all sure he wanted a dog in his plane and when Ray explained that Dief was really a wolf he was certain he didn't want him in his plane. Only with Jeanette's assurance that Dief wasn't going to chew through the fuselage, or in any way wreak havoc to his beloved aircraft, was Dief allowed to accompany them.

Ray was impressed with Jeanette. He liked the way she took charge when he and Thatcher weren't thinking too clearly, but he was getting bad vibes from her. He could tell she had something against him. Hell, she obviously couldn't stand being around him, and he didn't have a clue as to why. Once they got Fraser fixed up he'd have to find out what he'd done to . . . dear God, please let them get to Fraser in time.

__________________________________________________________

Fraser was delirious. He lay on the floor of Buck's cabin, but his mind wandering through the streets of Chicago. He was six years old and he, his Dad, and his Mum were going to a hockey game. The two Rays were waiting for them outside the stadium. Ray, the real Ray, was playing an accordian and holding a monkey that had no teeth. The monkey's teeth were apparently imbedded in Fraser's hand, and his hand hurt. 

Inside the stadium Inspector Thatcher was on the ice with Diefenbaker, both wearing Blackhawks uniforms. Thatcher's jersey said 'Lucky 13' and Dief's said 'Icecat 62'. There was a caribou sitting in the stands waving a big pink foam finger. Now everyone was yelling at him, but he couldn't understand what they were saying.

It was starting to snow inside the stadium and the flakes hurt as they fell on his head. It was snowing all around him. He knew that if he didn't move the snow would cover him, engulf him in a world of white and smother him.

Why was it so hot? It wasn't supposed to be hot when it was snowing, was it? And why couldn't he move? All he could do was watch as the snow slowly engulfed him. His friends started to fade away . . . and then everything went black.

__________________________________________________________

After a refueling stop in Regina, they finally made it to Yellowknife. Frobisher had told Meg that there would be a four-wheel drive truck at the station with keys under the mat. He had not told her to expect a turn in the weather.

The clouds told them that all the hurrying they had done was nothing compared with the hurrying they would have to do now. They all silently prayed as they climbed into the truck. It had started to snow.

Meg had directions. Fortunately, the cabin was only a short distance off the main road, if they could see the turnoff through the blowing snow. It took them at least an hour to travel the short distance indicated in Frobisher's directions. Ray was driving with Meg and Jeanette hanging out the windows, looking for a mailbox, the blizzard having reduced the visibility to zero.

"Let me out, I'll walk it!" Meg climbed out practically before Ray could bring the truck to a stop. 

They moved up the road this way for several minutes before she practically ran into the mailbox. 

"There it is! This is it. Ray, turn here!" Meg climbed back in and they made their way to the cabin. 

It hadn't occurred to Ray until this minute that Fraser might not be there. But he was, just inside the open door. "Holy shit! Fraser!" Blowing snow had completely covered the lifeless form on the floor.

__________________________________________________________

Ray and Meg were frozen in place. Jeanette, however, jumped into action. She dropped to her knees and began pushing snow away from Fraser's body, then turned him over. The first thing Ray saw was the large bruise on the deathly pale face. "Jeez," he muttered under his breath.

Jeanette had two fingers on his neck. "Is he . . . " Meg's words were no more than a whisper.

"He's alive, but his pulse is very weak. Damn, he's really hot. Meg, see if this place has a bathtub, find a bucket or something, then fill the tub with snow! Hurry! Ray help me get him undressed,"

she yelled at them. "I've got to get this vaccine into him. And we've got to get this fever down."

Meg found a bathtub and plastic wastebasket and began hauling snow. Jeanette and Ray hurriedly stripped Fraser down to longjohns, and Jeanette administered the vaccine.

"Did we make it in time?" Ray pleaded with her. Fraser looked bad, really bad. Ray felt like crying for his friend.

"I don't know, I don't know." Her hair had come loose from its severe bun and she ran her hands through it. "I've got to get the fever down." She was muttering.

"Detective, help me get him into the tub."

"Ray, name's Ray," he snapped as they carrying the unconscious man toward the bathroom.

"Once a detective, always a detective." 

Ray wasn't sure he had heard her right but he was too worried to care. Fraser was so hot, and sweating like he'd been hiking through the jungle. As they hefted the lifeless body into the tub Ray noticed the ugly rash just below the neckline of Fraser's longjohn's.

Ray shivered as they lowered his friend into the snow filled tub. Fraser's breathing was shallow and erratic and his skin was almost translucent it was so pale. Ray had never been so scared. "What's with the rash? Why's he--"

Jeanette's reply wasn't directed at Ray. "It's a by product of the fever. It will disappear if the fever goes down . . . when the fever goes down."

__________________________________________________________

For several minutes Ray and Jeanette stood watching for any changes in Fraser's condition. Neither spoke, or moved, or even breathed. Ray was afraid that if he so much as flinched something awful would happen. 

After several more minutes Fraser's whole body began to shudder. "Find some blankets! We've got to get him out of here quick!" The fever was coming down, now they needed to get him dry, and keep him warm.

After they had Fraser safely into bed Meg, Ray and Jeanette all went their separate ways. In so much as they could in the small cabin, with a blizzard blowing outside.

Ray went to sit in a corner as far away from the light as he could get. Meg laid down on a rather shabby sofa and used her arm to cover her eyes. Jeanette placed a chair beside the bed in the tiny room and sat next to Fraser. 

All Ray could think about was the bruise on Fraser's jaw, or more accurately, how that bruise got there. And how he had almost lost him. Hell, they might still lose him. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

Meg tried to sleep. Sleep seemed to be the only way to escape her thoughts. But her thoughts were so overpowering she was unable to relax. She blamed herself for Fraser's condition having progressed so far. She believed that she was responsible for pushing Fraser into leaving Chicago.

Jeanette knew that Fraser was not yet out of the woods. His temperature was still far too high, and there wasn't anything else she could do, except maybe pray. Although in her experience, prayer seldom worked and was hardly worth the effort. She sighed. She was going to have to keep a close eye on him and hope for the best. She closed her eyes and dozed off.

__________________________________________________________

Sometime later Ray came to stand in the doorway and watched his friend and the doctor sleep. God, would this pain in his gut ever go away? He couldn't lose Fraser, couldn't even begin to know what he'd do without him. The Mountie had become the best friend he had ever had, had saved him from going nuts when his 'volunteer' undercover assignment turned out to be more than he had bargained for. Ray knew in his heart that Fraser was a better cop. He could have never solved half the cases he had if it hadn't been for Fraser. He needed to be able to tell him that.

Ray half smiled. His thoughts were getting the better of him. 'Stop it ya idiot. He ain't dead 'n he isn't gonna be, so stop thinkin' bout him like he was some kinda saint, or somethin'.'

He frowned at Jeanette. He didn't have a clue why she'd taken such a sudden and intense dislike to him. Sure he was kind of skinny and had experimental hair, but he didn't think he was totally disgusting to look at, and he'd hardly even opened his mouth that first time at the fire, before she treated him like he'd had plague or something. But if she could get Fraser through this, he didn't care if she treated him like he was a leper.

Ray left Fraser to return to the front room and stare out the window at the blizzard howling around them. A commotion in the kitchen disturbed his thoughts. When he went to check out the source of the noise, he found Inspector Thatcher searching through cupboards. 

"Lose somethin' Inspector?" Ray tried to smile at her.

"I was looking for some soup, or something to make some broth out of. Fraser will be hungry when he wakes . . . " She turned away from him to lean on the counter as she began to cry.

Ray went to her and awkwardly took her into his arms, "Shh, Meg, he's gonna be okay. He is. Jeanette knows exactly what ta do, she's gonna pull him through. He'll be okay. He'll be okay." 'Please God, let him be okay.'

After several long moments they both became uncomfortably aware that they were hugging. After an awkward moment Meg pulled away, "I'm alright now," she smiled at him sheepishly, "Thanks Ray . . . I . . . guess . . . I needed that."

"Me too," Ray took a deep breath. He'd had his arms around the Ice Queen and he didn't feel the least bit cold, just the opposite actually. He'd have to think about that . . . later. "Now let's find somethin' ta make Fraser's dinner."

__________________________________________________________

Ray came back to stand in the bedroom doorway. He watched as Jeanette tended to her patient. Her gentleness with Fraser surprised him. He watched as she wiped his brow with a wet cloth, placed the back of her hand on his forehand to check for fever, fluffed the pillow, all the while talking to him softly.

Ray smiled to himself. He thought she was reciting Shakespeare, 'Romeo and Juliet,' if he remembered high school English. In the dim light of the room she reminded him of an angel, hovering over Fraser that way, her long blond hair falling all around her, her voice sounding like a prayer.

Ray spoke softly, so as not break the spell, "Jeanette, Meg's made some soup . . . "

Obviously Jeanette had not been aware of his presence, because she jumped to a full standing position. The usual look she gave him had been replaced; loathing replaced by - fear? She was afraid of him? 

"Jeez, Detective, don't ever sneak up on me like that again!" 

Well, the spell was certainly broken. Ray felt badly, but he wasn't sure why. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? Meg's made some soup. If ya wanna eat, I'll sit with him."

"Talk to him while you sit here. It might help." She left without another word.

Ray ran his hands through his hair. He'd thought her feelings for him might have something to do with her being attracted to Fraser. It's wasn't like that hadn't happened before. But now it was clear to him that that wasn't it. She was afraid of him. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why she should be afraid of him. He sat down next to Fraser and immediately forgot all about Jeanette McDonald.

He stared at his friend for several moments. The bruise on his jaw didn't look as bad as it had when his fever was so high. But the pain in Ray's heart hadn't lessened. He rested his elbows on the bed and hung his head in his hands.

After several minutes he pulled himself together. She had said to talk to him and Ray was determined to do just that, tell Fraser all that was on his mind. Get this off his chest, even if Fraser couldn't hear him. 

"I can't believe I had ta chase ya across two countries. It's a real pain tryin' ta keep up with ya sometimes, ya know?" He hesitated, "I'm . . . sorry. For punchin' ya like that, I mean, when you was sick n' all. Guess we weren't communicatin' to good, or somethin'. God, Frase, it's gonna piss me off if ya don't make it. This Ray Vecchio shit's bad enough, I don't wanna do it anymore if ya aren't around."

He took Fraser's hand in both of his. "Look, if ya wanna partner up with sumebudy else when ya get better, I'll understand. Hell, I'd dump me in a heartbeat." Ray laughed. "Just get better 'n come back ta Chicago with us, we need ya around, okay?" Ray slowly realized they weren't alone. He looked up to see Meg standing in the doorway. He quickly dropped Fraser's hand. "I . . . ah . . . "

Meg was touched by Ray's concern for his friend, and envious of the way he was able to express his feelings. There were so many things she would like to tell Fraser, but she wasn't sure she knew how. She walked over to Ray and placed her hand on his shoulder, "You're right Ray, we . . . we do need him around. I was thinking about trying to tell him the same thing. Why don't you go get something to eat? I'll sit with him."

Ray put his hand over hers and squeezed it. "Thanks, Meg. 'Member in your office when I said you was real cold?" She nodded. "I was wrong, I'm sorry." He stood up and hugged her briefly. Meg smiled at him as he left the room.

__________________________________________________________

Meg was now alone with Fraser. But, unlike Ray, she couldn't just spit out the words. She was pretty sure what she wanted to say to him and pretty sure he wouldn't hear her, but once she'd put her conflicting thoughts into words, she knew she could never take them back. She'd long ago convinced herself that Fraser didn't matter to her, pushed all her feelings down and then out of her mind. Now all those feelings had come rushing back threatening to engulf her.

She took a deep breath and spoke to him softly. "Cons . . . Frase . . . " Damn. "Ben," well that's a start, "I'm sorry your ill." God, she thought she sounded like the get well card she had sent to her Aunt Louise, "I, I mean I wish . . . I wish I hadn't caused you to leave Chicago. I just didn't stop to think how important going home would be to you. That's always been a big problem for me. I often don't consider . . . don't understand . . . the feelings of my subordinates. I can usually tell with Turnbull, he wears his heart on his sleeve, but you are an enigma to me.

"And I shouldn't have denied your request out of hand. The truth is, Ben, I do need you to stay with me, but I have no idea what to do with you." Well, that might not be entirely true. "When I first arrived at the Consulate all I wanted to do was get rid of you. When that didn't work out, I tried to prove to myself, I guess, that I was the better officer. That didn't work either.

"Truth, Ben? I envy you. As a RCMP officer you are everything I would have liked to have been. But as I discovered very early on, it's different for a woman. Once you're better we'll work something out. If you really want to come back up here . . . I won't . . . won't stand in your way. I just want you to know that I really do want you to stay in Chicago. You are my friend and I would miss you if you were gone."

She wasn't sure if he had heard her and not sure at all that she could repeat those words when he could. This would have to do for now.

__________________________________________________________

While Meg was sitting with Fraser, Ray decided to talk to Jeanette. She was taking such good care of his friend he just wanted to set things right with her. Find out what her problem was. 

He found her in the kitchen eating a bowl of soup. As soon as he walked in she picked up the bowl and, without a word, brushed past him as she went through a door to the back porch.

Ray hesitated and then followed her through the door. He had enough of this! He hadn't done anything to her to deserve this crap! "What the Hell's the matter with ya?" He grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. As soon as he saw her face he knew. He took two steps backwards as he held up both hands. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't you ever touch me again!" It was almost a sob. She ran back into the kitchen.

'Shit!' Ray sighed as he ran his hands through his hair. 'So that's it! God!' He had seen that look before, too often. Mostly women, but sometimes kids too. At some point in this woman's life some man had abused her and she still suffered. He felt like he always did when he saw those terrified faces, like he wanted to find the bastard and give him a taste of his own medicine. 

But he had no clue as to what to do now.

__________________________________________________________

After she calmed down a little, Jeanette relieved Meg and took up watch over Fraser. She glanced at Dief lying at Fraser's feet. He hadn't moved from that position since they had first gotten Fraser settled into bed. This man certainly had loyal friends. 

She stared at Fraser for a long time. She was aware that he was an extremely handsome man, had noticed it the first time she had met him the day of the fire. She'd have had to be blind to miss it! But she had spent all of her adult life avoiding men like him, well actually, if the truth were known, all men in general. It wasn't really that hard to do. Most men, especially the attractive ones, only paid attention to her if they needed something. And usually then they tried to make her feel like they were doing her the favor by asking. But, unlike those men, Benton Fraser had seemed to be totally unaware of his physical appearance. 

It seemed to her, though, that his physical attractiveness was only a part of the overall beauty of the man. The rest of his beauty came from his soul. She had seen that the day of the fire too, in his smile.

"You have to get well, Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, I have to see that smile again." She closed her eyes and dozed off.

Some time later she was awakened by Diefenbaker's wet nose nudging her hand. "Dief, what is--" then she smiled. "Well, hello," she whispered as she moved to sit on the side of the bed. 

"Welcome back to the land of the living." She placed her hand on Fraser's forehead and thanked God. She had no idea why she always thanked Him, when she had long since stopped asking for His help. 

Her smile grew wider as she looked in his beautiful blue eyes. Was there nothing about this man that wasn't beautiful? But the look in those blue eyes caused her concern.

"How about a little water?" He nodded slightly and she held his head up to help him drink. "Just a little, Ben, slowly. There, is that a little better? Ben, do you know where you are?"

His response was slow in coming. "Left . . . Chicago . . .Yellowknife . . . "

Jeanette exhaled deeply. She had been secretly worried about the effects of his high fever, but now it seemed everything would be all right.

"How do you feel?" She held his hand in hers as she smiled at him.

"Weak . . . headache."

"You've been a very sick man, Ben. You've had us all scared to death. You've got a couple of very worried, very loyal friends out there anxious to see you. Do you feel up to it?" Dief snorted at her, and she smiled at them both. "Okay! Three worried, loyal friends!"

Ben closed his eyes, but nodded slightly. It took all his strength to do just that much.

__________

Jeanette slumped against the doorway to the front room and closed her eyes. Ray and Meg were playing checkers. Meg saw her first, "Oh, my God! Jeanette?" She and Ray were both on their feet.

Jeanette opened her eyes and smiled at them. "The fever's broken, he's awake." Meg sat down and put her head in her hands. Ray turned his back to the two women and walked over to the window, leaning his forehead against the cold glass. The relief in the room was almost palpable.

"Can we see him?" Meg silently hoped that he wanted to see her.

"Yes, but a couple of things first, okay? One at a time, and just for a couple of minutes. And," she glanced at Ray but let her eyes settle on Meg, "whatever you told him when you thought he might not hear you? Tell him again . . . now that you know he can." Jeanette sank down on the shabby sofa.

__________________________________________________________

Ray was hesitant but went in to Fraser first. He was afraid to speak to him. After all they had been through the last few days he had forgotten the words of apology he had practiced in front of the Consulate. When he finally entered the room, Fraser's eyes were closed. 

As he turned to leave the room he heard a very weak "Ray . . . don't . . . go." Those three words brought tears to his eyes. He had to wipe them with his sleeve before he could turn to face his friend.

"How ya feelin', Frase? Ya sure look a lot better than ya did when we first found ya." He tried hard not to look at the bruise on Fraser's jaw.

"Okay . . . weak. Who . . . that woman? What . . . happened . . . "

"'Member the fire, the monkey that bit ya? It had some dingy fever or somethin'. Made you act all crazy. Ran away ta this god forsaken, frozen wasteland. The doc had some vaccine stuff, we had ta come save ya." That was not at all what he had planned to say.

"Home . . . " he whispered. 

Well, that did it. No one on this, or any other planet could say so little and get to him as fast as Fraser. Ray hung his head and tried to think. "Hey, Frase . . . I'm sorry about . . . "

"It's . . . okay, Ray."

"No, it's not! Please . . . I need ta say this, okay? I realized while you were sick . . . when we thought we might . . . Hell, Fraser, I thought ya was . . . might die. And I realized how much yer friendship means ta me. Hell, I don't know if I'd a made it through the Vecchio stuff if it wasn't fer you . . . I'm sorry I punched ya." He looked away from the intense blue eyes staring at him. "You'll never know how sorry."

Fraser slowly licked his lips, a gesture Ray knew so well. "Thank . . . you, Ray . . . I . . . know . . . you're sorry . . . I . . . I saw it . . . your eyes . . . right after . . . it happened. I . . . sick . . . couldn't . . . say . . . "

Just like that Fraser had let him off the hook. Ray felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Thanks, Frase." Ray could no longer look his friend in the eye. "If . . . if ya want a partner . . . partner up with somebudy else . . . I'll understand. It couldn't a been easy for ya, workin' with a jerk like me."

'You're . . . not . . . a jerk . . . Ray." Fraser tried to smile at him.

"Still friends then?"

"Friends . . . and partners . . . Ray." Fraser offered him a weak smile and Ray grinned back at him.

"Meg wants ta come in 'n see ya a minute. Ya up ta it?"

"Meg?" Fraser put on the best shocked expression he could muster.

"Yeah, well we've kinda, ya know, gotten ta know each other the last couple a days. Don't look at me like that! We was both . . . worried about ya." Fraser laughed weakly at Ray's embarrassment. Ray put his hand on Fraser's shoulder, "Glad . . . glad you're . . . back buddy," he whispered and turned and left the room.

__________________________________________________________

Meg was waiting in the hall. "Now's yer chance, Meg. Tell him how ya feel. Ya may never get another chance ta talk ta him, when he can't talk back, or run away." Ray was feeling great, better than he had in days. He felt at peace with the world and he wanted Meg to feel that way too.

Meg smiled at Fraser as she walked into the room. "How are you feeling . . . Ben? Comfortable? Can I get you anything?" She knew she was stalling, but she didn't know if she had the courage to say the things that she wanted and needed to say.

"Water?"

She helped him raise his head to drink.

"I really . . . am . . . okay . . . Sir." 

If she was going to say what was on her mind, he was going to have to stop calling her 'Sir', at least for now.

"Ben, I think it only appropriate, under these circumstances, that you call me Meg." She hesitated before she spoke again. "Ben, I need to apologize to you . . . "

Ben took her hand in a very weak grasp. "If you're referring . . . to our argument . . . regarding my transfer . . . it is . . . I who need to . . . apologize . . . to you . . . I was . . . completely out of . . . line . . . insubordinate. I am sorry, Sir." Just those few words left him exhausted.

She laughed under her breath. "You're really not going to make this easy for me, are you?"

"I'm sorry, I don't understand . . . "

Wasn't that exactly the point? He didn't understand. She raised her voice slightly. "Constable Fraser, please let me continue?"

That shut him up and she smiled at him. "I've got this whole speech worked out in my head, and if you keep interrupting we'll be here all day. Understood?" He nodded.

She took a deep breath. It would be much easier for her if she didn't have to look into those lovely blue eyes of his, but try as she might she could not tear her gaze away.

"I guess you know that when I first came to Chicago I wanted nothing more than to get rid of you? But I doubt you know why. It was hard for me coming up through the ranks of the RCMP. I had to work twice as hard as any man while . . . deflecting . . . the attentions of some of the more, shall we say, friendly officers. Oh, and I had heard about you! I didn't believe it of course, but there you were, all confident but without conceit. I assumed you were like all the rest, but no, you had to be different. No matter what menial task, what boring assignment I gave you, you never complained. You just did as you were told.

"But you also kept running around Chicago, saving one citizen after another. And everyone loved you, like Dudley do Right. You probably know how angry you made me, but I'm sure you have no idea how I envied you. You were doing exactly what I had been trained to do, and you made it all seem so effortless."

He was listening to her with surprise in his eyes. But as she often did, she also saw confusion. A person could lose herself in those eyes. She cleared her throat and began again.

"So, I got it in my head to bait you. See if I could get a rise out of you? See if I could prove to you, and myself," she sighed, "that I was the better officer. But all I got for my efforts was a confused Constable. Do you know that you do not have a devious bone in your body? You just didn't understand.

"After awhile I just grew accustomed to having you around and then later, comfortable, albeit not always pleased, with your presence. Now, I don't know what I would do without you. I need you to be where I am. That's why I . . . I denied your transfer." She looked down at his hand holding hers. "I'm sorry Ben, I should have discussed your reasons with you prior to making a decision like that." She looked up at him and saw compassion in his eyes. It brought tears to hers.

Fraser smiled at her. "I wondered . . . why you were always . . . peering at me over . . . your glasses . . . when you . . . thought . . . I . . . I couldn't . . . see." He licked his dry lips. "You must have . . . thought . . . I was . . . extremely dense."

She smiled back at him. "You are extremely dense, Constable."

__________________________________________________________

As Meg went in to talk to Ben, Ray went to find Jeanette. It was the time for talking to people, telling them how you felt. Ray needed to talk to Jeanette, even if she didn't want to talk to him.

She had needed some air, so she had gone outside to stand on the front porch. This was just crazy. She knew that he had discovered her secret, or at least a part of it, and for the first time in 20 years she felt she might actually want to talk about it. But to a cop, a detective? That had to be some sort of cosmic irony, of epic proportions.

It had finally stopped snowing, and although it was still very cold, the fresh air helped to clear her head. Things were happening inside that little cabin. Things that warmed her heart, but at the same time frightened her. She had always avoided close personal involvement with anyone. Letting anyone in could cause you to care, and caring for anyone just brought pain. She had had enough pain for at least two lifetimes. She couldn't stand anymore.

She was standing at the far end of the porch with her back to the front door, when she heard it open. She knew it must be him, so she didn't turn around.

"Jeanette," he spoke softly so as not to startle her, "can I talk ta ya?" In the dim light it was difficult to see her, but he knew she was facing away from him. He knew that he had to try to gain her confidence. He would try to speak to her as Fraser would. He smiled at the thought of him. Thank God, Fraser was still with them.

"I wanted ta thank ya, for Fraser, 'n all. He's gettin' stronger by the minute."

She sighed. "I'm glad everything is working out okay." She hesitated a moment. "My little outburst awhile ago was totally uncalled for Detective, I'm sorry." She still did not turn to face him.

"I think there was more to it than just a little 'outburst'. I just wanted ya ta know that if ya want ta talk about it, I got two good ears. It might help, ya know, ta talk about it? And the name's Ray."

She finally turned around to face him, but neither one of them moved. "I'm sorry . . . Ray."

"Well, that's a step in the right direction. Maybe ya can tell me what I did that makes ya . . . "

"Hate you?"

"Uh . . . yeah."

"You're a cop, a detective." 

Her matter of fact tone had Ray wondering, "ya hate all detectives, or just me?"

"All of them, every God damn detective in every God damn police department all over the US."

Whoa, this wasn't going very well. "And this'd be 'cause . . . "

"Now that's the sixty-four thousand dollar question, isn't it?" There was sarcasm in her voice that Ray didn't understand.

"I'd like ta know, if ya wanna tell me."

"I don't know if I . . . can."

Ray knew that it was important not to push too hard, to give her lots of space, so when she moved to sit on the bench across from the front room window, he kept his mouth shut, and stayed where he was.

She got up and moved almost as soon as she sat down. The light from the front room window shone directly on where she had chosen to sit. She felt like she was in the spotlight and the whole world could see her. That sure wouldn't work. She moved back to the far end of the porch and settled into the dark corner.

Ray frowned at her. She was acting like a caged animal, like those animals they had rescued from the fire. Trapped and terrified. Ray was beginning to wonder if he was out of his depth here. Maybe she needed to talk to a shrink, not some college drop out Chicago flatfoot. But he'd come this far, and he wasn't about to back out on her now.

She'd pushed herself as far back into that dark corner as she could. He could hardly see her, which was apparently the way she liked it. He moved slightly too, into more shadow, so that she could talk without having to see him.

"Jeanette? Talk ta me?" He could no longer see her at all. So when she spoke it was with a trembling, disembodied voice.

"It's . . . it's been a long time . . . since I . . . since I've . . . talked . . . told anyone this. Funny thing . . . the last time was to a detective too. St. Clare, California. I think maybe this time . . . it might actually do me some good . . . " Her voice trailed off. She hesitated for several moments and Ray wondered if she had lost her nerve.

He was actually startled when she began speaking again. "From . . . from my earliest . . . memory I was . . . sexually . . . abused by . . . by my . . . uncle." Ray groaned to himself. He had never heard any one speak in a voice so completely devoid of emotion. "When I was fifteen . . . I finally . . . worked up the nerve . . . to tell . . . to tell . . . my mother. But she . . . she didn't believe me. She called me a whore . . . a slut. Said he would . . . would never . . . do such a thing. He was . . . a . . . cop for god's sake, a . . . detective." 

'Oh, my God.' Ray thought he might be sick. Her sentences were choppy and Ray could tell from ten feet away that she was having trouble breathing.

"When I . . . when I was . . . was sixteen . . . I finally felt strong enough to . . . to try to fight him. Bad . . . idea. He beat me. Then he raped me. Then he beat me again."

"Jeanette," Ray whispered. He wanted to go to her, comfort her, kill the son of a bitch who had done this to her. But she didn't hear him. And when she began to speak again he knew he had to keep his distance. She was wound up like one of those kid's wind up toys. Her words kept coming, faster and faster, like she had let the cork out of the bottle and couldn't stop the flow coming out. "He threw me in the trunk of his car dumped me in an alley behind . . . behind a Mexican restaurant left me for dead." 

Ray didn't think he could stand to hear much more. "Made a mistake though there . . . there was this homeless guy there he got help . . . cops . . . cops . . . a lot of good they did me . . . thought . . . thought I had provoked him . . . said it was my fault . . . decided he needed protection . . . detective buddies gave him an alibi said . . . said he'd been with them in the end it was my word against theirs." She laughed, a laugh that made Ray's skin crawl. "You can guess who everyone believed." Jeanette finally took a deep breath as she ran down. She wrapped her arms around herself, as she slid down the wall and sat huddled in the corner.

Ray didn't know what to do. He wanted desperately to go to her, but he was afraid to touch her, afraid to scare her. Finally he knew he couldn't just let her sit there, so he went to her, gathered her up in his arms and held her as she shook violently.

"I'm sorry, I shoulda never pushed ya in ta telling me bout all this," he whispered into her hair. He knew better than to tell her everything would be all right. Something that had tormented her for all her life was not going to be put right just by telling someone about it. Shit, no wonder she hated him. He desperately wished he'd never introduced himself to her as 'Detective' Ray Vecchio.

After several minutes Meg came out on to the porch looking for them. Ray looked up at her, Jeanette still trembling in his arms, and shook his head. Meg immediately retreated into the house. She also had the presence of mind to turn off the light that was partially illuminating the porch. That left Ray and Jeanette standing in total darkness. Ray silently thanked Meg.

He held on to Jeanette for a very long time as she slowly began to get herself under control. Ray knew they should go inside where it was warmer, but if she wanted to stay here in the dark, that's where they'd stay.

"Ray?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you." She sighed as a realization dawned on her, "I have never had a man put his arms around me when I've actually wanted him to. You're the first."

His heart was breaking for her, but he was glad she had made at least a little progress. "I'm honored that ya chose me for the privilege."

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"You're full of bull."

Ray laughed slightly and so did Jeanette. She had regained her composure. "It's gettin cold out here. You okay ta go inside?"

"Yeah, I guess I'm ready to return to the land of the living, too."

__________________________________________________________

Ray went in to check on Fraser and ran into Meg coming out of his room. "He doin' okay?"

"Yes, he's sleeping." Nodding toward the front room, "Is she all right?" There was deep concern in Meg's voice. What she had seen on the porch had troubled her.

Ray shook his head. "I dunno. She sure needs a lot more help than I can give her. Needs ta talk ta someone professional, a shrink or somethin'. I don't know if she'll tell ya." And he would never betray the trust Jeanette had place in him by repeating what she'd said to anyone. But Ray didn't say that. He went in to sit with Fraser and think about all the things he had just heard.

The cop in him wanted to find this guy, see if he was paying for his crimes. Crimes, yeah right. That word didn't even come close to describing what that man had done to her. He wanted to beat the shit out of him. He just hoped that he hadn't done even more damage by getting her to talk to him. 

He was so lost in thought he didn't notice Fraser staring at him. "Ray? What's wrong?"

"Hiya, Frase." He brightened considerably at the sound of Fraser's voice. He smiled at him. "Nothin's wrong. How ya feelin'?"

"I must have been really ill. I think you three people have asked me at least ten times how I'm feeling. I'm much better." Actually he was still very weak and his head was throbbing. But there was no way he would complain to any of them. They had all worried about him enough.

"Had anythin' ta eat?"

"Yes, Ray. Meg forced me to eat some soup a little while ago." Actually only a couple of spoons full and he hadn't been able to eat another bite.

"Hi, guys." Jeanette stood, almost smiling, in the doorway. Ray thought she was looking noticeably better.

"Don't ask him how he's feelin'. He's a little testy 'bout that. I'm gonna go get somethin' ta eat. Don't be scared a her Frase, she's okay." He patted Jeanette on the shoulder as he left the room.

Fraser cocked his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. Apparently a lot of things had changed while he was unconscious. Last he remembered, Ray was calling the Inspector 'Ice Queen', and thought the Doctor was, well, unattractive. Apparently he had some catching up to do.

"Okay, this is your doctor speaking. Tell me exactly how you feel, and none of this 'fine' stuff."

"Really, I--"

"Truth, Constable."

"I am very weak and have a headache."

"Good." His raised eyebrows caused her to laugh. "Not good that you are weak and have a headache, good that you are telling me the truth. Actually Ben, your progress is exactly as I expected it to be. That's good." She took his temperature and checked his pulse. 

When she had completed all the necessary ministrations to his health, she sat down beside him. "Ben, I need to apologize to you." 

Oh dear, he thought, not another one. This room is turning in to a confessional. Actually this worried him a little, everyone was being too nice to him. It felt very strange.

"I should have kept in touch with you. Exotic animal bites are not to be taken lightly. I didn't even check to see if you needed a tetanus shot, for heaven's sake."

"You were put off by Detective Vecchio's presence."

"You are a very percep . . . Ben, that's no excuse!" He smiled at her. He was on a roll, three for three. He was pleased with himself. He had regained two friends and was in the process of making a new one, all while lying in a bed in Yellowknife.

"You can trust him, you know."

Jeanette thought that Benton Fraser was a mind reader. It was very disconcerting. "I think you're right."

__________________________________________________________

Meg and Ray both tip toed around Jeanette. Meg, because of her unanswered concerns and Ray because he wasn't sure how Jeanette felt about him now that she had shared the horrors of her past with him.

Having a keen sense for the obvious Jeanette knew she was going to have to put a stop to it, but she just wasn't quite sure how to begin. After Ben fell asleep again, she came in to the front room and sat on the shabby sofa without saying a word. After a few minutes, she laid her glasses down, rubbed her eyes and started to laugh

Meg and Ray were so shocked that she laughed even harder. "You two are treating me as if I were a porcelain doll. Well, look no cracks . . . well, not any fatal ones anyway. Meg, I don't want to go into details, but Ray was helping me come to terms with some really old stuff." She looked at Ray, "You can relax Ray, I'm not going to allow myself to ignore what happened out there. There's a lot more I need to talk about. I've decided that when we get home I'm going to talk to someone who can help me sort it all out. And I'm going to look up my former pastor, I haven't been in touch with him for years."

For the second time in twenty-four hours Ray felt an overwhelming since of relief. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Meg wasn't sure what had just happened, but from the look of relief on Ray's face she knew it had been monumental. "Well . . . good then . . . that's . . . settled, is it?" She cleared her throat. "Now then, when will Fraser be able to travel? I'm sure we're all anxious to get home . . . " As soon as the words were out of her mouth she would have given everything she owned to take them back.

There were four people in the cabin, three of whom called Chicago home, but the forth? None of them had a clue as to what Fraser would want to do. And Meg and Ray were afraid to ask. 

"Home does sound good, doesn't it?"

"Frase!" 

Ben leaned against wall just inside the room. He looked as if he wouldn't be upright much longer. Ray ran to help him to the nearest chair.

"Fraser, are you sure you should be out of bed?" Meg was up to help, too.

"The sooner I get on my feet, the sooner we can go home. Right, Doctor?"

If they couldn't ask, Jeanette would ask for them. "Where's home, Ben?"

You could have heard a pin drop in the room. Jeanette didn't think either Meg or Ray was breathing. 

"Home is where my friends are. And you are all my friends." His simple statement was able to erase most all of the trauma of the last few days.

They all knew that there would be problems between them again. What friends didn't disagree from time to time? But they had been given a great gift. The source of their friendship had survived. They had been forced to face their feelings for him, but more importantly, they had been able to admit their feelings to him. 

Now they'd have to live with those admissions.

Oh dear.

The End

Author's note: I am not a doctor, but I do know that Dengue fever is not contracted by the bite of a monkey, or necessarily fatal for that matter. I used it because it fit into the story so well.


End file.
